There is something else to say about taking Mary and Abby, and making them pin-ups. What I am about to say pertains particularly to Abby, as a nascent heir apparent to Ingres and David, the French Neo-Classicists. To take said heir apparent to Ingres and David, and enfranchise her as a babe, as you see here, makes her and I both freaks and mutants. Taking the twig-like mold around Neo-Classical level painting and snapping it, is a good way to earn a hale-and-hearty, completely stunned silence from all and sundry. Thus, soaring numbers on these sights, sometimes staggering numbers, but no buzz. Bizarre. And, as time goes by, we're only going to get more outlandish, more bizarre. The catalogue of pin-up shots and the catalogue of paintings will be forced to do a dance like the Lambada, the Forbidden Dance. No one on Gods green earth will know what to make of us at all, I predict, half-kidding. No molds, no formulas, no codes. No one behind us pushing us out as stooges, either. But worth noting that in this first wave of recognition, wherein the sites are manned with rubber-neckers from all necks of the woods at all times, I was able to spot something in us new enough, and bizarre enough, that the mutant streak we embody or boast, may be seen from many perspectives to be the dominant one. And that that's fine.
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